


Falling, Catching.

by Readingfanfics



Series: Prompts [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Brother Mycroft, Care fic, Fanfic for Fanart, Fluff, Gen, Mycroft takes care of Sherlock, bed sharing, no weird things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8545477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: The night before Christmas, Sherlock stands before his brother's door, in need of help. 
Inspiration:  http://maxkennedy24.tumblr.com/post/141153103792





	

Rain was pouring down as Mycroft got out of the car to his home. It was cold and quite, too quite for London. People were inside, warm and save behind closed doors, sitting together at the dinner table to celebrate Christmas.

 

Mycroft looked up at the Christmas lights illuminating the street. The only house that didn't have any decoration was his own. He never cared for Christmas. The family gathering, the festive cheer, the overfull of food that would curse him later.

 

He headed to the door, thankful to have his umbrella in this dreary weather. It made him feel more lonely and sad then he already was. Sighing he opened the front door, stepping inside and placing his umbrella in the usual spot.

 

The housekeeper had already looked for the fire, the house warm and inviting. He took of his coat, hanging it on the coat rack and loosened his tie.

 

He hated this time of year. It was the one time that all the world decided to stop working. As if peace really was within reach. Mycroft sighed, shaking his head to clear out all the doom and gloom. The job did have it's toll on you. No mater what people whispered in the halls, he did have a heart and seeing what he saw on a daily bases made it shrink.

 

He was about to head to the kitchen, the lovely smells drawing him in when his doorbell rang. The sound filled the air, loud and abrasive. Mycroft raised an eyebrow. Who would be calling at this hour? On Christmas Eve no less.

 

“Sherlock?”

 

He blinked, mouth falling open as he took in his younger brother at his doorstep. Mycroft looked him over, his lips going down in disapproval. Sherlock wasn't wearing his coat, or scarf, or anything that could protect him from this dreadful weather. Mycroft noticed the bags under his eyes, the lines near his mouth. Sherlock's hair was a mess, the curls even more wild then usual.

 

Mycroft's gaze went to Sherlock's upperbody, the rain soaking his purple shirt, showing off his muscles, his nipples hard. Mycroft swallowed, averting his gaze while he stepped aside, gesturing for Sherlock to come in.

 

Once inside Mycroft noticed the shivers running down Sherlock's back, the tiredness in his grey/blue eyes. _He looks old._

 

“Go have a shower. I'll bring up extra clothes.”

 

Sherlock just nodded, heading to the bathroom and Mycroft watched him go. It was saying something for Sherlock's state of mind that he didn't argue. It made him more worried.

 

Heading to his bedroom he got out the bundle of clothes Sherlock had left behind a long time ago. He went to the spare bedroom, looking it over and felt a spark of gratitude towards his housekeeper that everything was ready. _She really is a godsend. I need to give her a Christmas bonus._

 

Standing before the bathroom door Mycroft hesitated. Should I knock or just go in and leave the clothes for him to find? He felt off balance, remembering the way Sherlock's body stood out against his rain soaked shirt. That color really did look stunning on him.

 

He gave a soft growl, almost slapping his forehead in frustration but instead knocked on the door loudly, calling out.

 

“Sherlock, I found some clothes. I'll take the ones you wore now to wash and then dry.”

 

Steam filled the bathroom, the air humid and Mycroft saw Sherlock's form against the matted door of the shower. Water was pounding on Sherlock's back, his head down as if in defeat. Mycroft felt a stab of compassion and something else and took a step forward.

 

“Sherlock?”

 

It's then he saw Sherlock's shoulders move and realized he was crying. Without thinking about it he opened the door, kicking of his shoes and going inside. He wrapped his brother inside his arms, pressing his chest firmly to his back as Sherlock sob loudly, shoulder's shaking uncontrolably.

 

“It's okay Sherlock. Shhht, I've got you now. It's okay.”

 

He kept talking, his mouth close to Sherlock's ear, pressing him tighter against him. Water was coming down on both of them and Mycroft's clothes got soaked through.

 

After a while Sherlock's sobs became less insistent, less heartbreaking. Mycroft felt him move and he released him, already moving back to get out of the shower. He wasn't sure what Sherlock would do. _Why the hell had he done that?_

 

Whatever he thought Sherlock would do he didn't imagine almost being crushed when Sherlock hugged him again, pressing his face into Mycroft's shoulder, his hands gripping the back of Mycroft's shirt. Mycroft ran his hands up and down Sherlock's back, not caring about the scars. He kept whispering endearments into his brother's curls, kept telling him it was going to be okay.

 

The water turned colder and Mycroft felt Sherlock tremble again. He reached out, turning of the tap and trying to release himself from Sherlock.

 

“Sherlock. Let's get you out of here, dry you off and make you warm up a bit okay. C'mon Bee.”

 

Sherlock looked up at Mycroft, his eyes not focused. Mycroft got him out of the shower, drying him off completely, helping him change his clothes as Sherlock just stood there and watched.

 

He placed him onto a small stool while he went outside to his bedroom, taking of his clothes and grabbing a towel to dry off. He changed into his pajamas before going back to the bathroom.

 

Sherlock was still sitting on the stool, head now down, looking at his hands.

 

“Sherlock. You want to eat something first? Or just go to bed?”

 

It took a whole minute for Sherlock to look up and shake his head.

 

“Sleep.”

 

Mycroft took Sherlock's hand, leading him to the spareroom and turning on the lamp. It cast a warm glow over the room, revealing a large bed with green and gold sheets.

 

Sherlock got in, pulling the sheets to his neck, his eyes already falling closed. Mycroft turned to leave but Sherlock grabbed his hand, holding him tight.

 

“Stay. Please.”

 

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, saw the loneliness and despair in his eyes and he nodded, going round to get in on the other side, leaving some distance between their bodies.

Sherlock turned, getting closer and tangled himself around his brother. Mycroft wrapped him into his arms and Sherlock gave a small sigh as his head rested in the crook of Mycroft's shoulder.

 

“Oh Bee.”

 

Mycroft sighed, settling in as Sherlock's weight was half on top of him, the warmth of his brother's body relaxing him.

 

He didn't know why Sherlock was here, why he had come now. After all this time but it didn't matter. Tomorrow there was time for talking, for figuring things out. Right now he held Sherlock in his arms, hearing his brother's breating even out as he himself also drifted off to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this artwork: http://maxkennedy24.tumblr.com/post/141153103792  
> \-----------------------------------  
> The title is from a song by Agnes Obel  
> \-----------------------------------  
> If I made any mistakes or you want to tell me how you liked it you can comment here or on my tumblr: http://readingfanficswatchingshows.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> If you want me to add tags you can send me an email to: KallistoIndrani@hotmail.com
> 
> I have a blog where you can find sneek peeks, updates and writer's tips: http://readingfanficswrites.tumblr.com/


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